Ok, Jack?
by jackwabbit
Summary: Daniel's Concerned for Jack. Entity, Daniel POV, A Few Weeks Post Episode.


**Ok, Jack?**

Rated: R (language)

Category: Daniel/Jack Friendship, Daniel Angst, Jack Angst, S/J UST, Episode Tag

Season: Four

Spoilers: Entity

Summary: Daniel POV, A Few Weeks Post Episode

Note: Re-watched 'Entity' the other day, and I wrote a Jack POV that just popped into my head. A Daniel POV followed. Then this sequel came. There might be more to come. We shall see.

Sequel: Companion to "Two Birds with One Stone" Can stand alone, though.

---

I don't know if Jack will be ok. To all outward appearances, he seems ok, but I know better. I still see the haunted look in his eyes. The dead one. The look that has been there several weeks. The look he wore like armor around himself when we first met. The one that says, 'don't get too close, I'm dangerous'. The one he used to like to draw close to him like a cloak for comfort on a long, cold night.

I've ignored it for a while now. I thought it would go away. He seemed himself sometimes, almost back to normal. Well, normal for him, anyway. Little cracks would open up in that armor and you could almost see the Jack O'Neill most folks know peeking out. But something happened today that told me everything is most definitely not right. Something relatively benign, that to most would mean nothing, but I think it speaks to more than it should. Something is going on with Jack. Something has changed, and not so much for the better.

*******************************************************

Sam and I were walking down a hallway at SGC, going to lunch off base. It was a glorious day outside, and I had convinced her that a drive and some non-cafeteria food would do her some good. Besides, my car was in the shop, and I needed the ride. I think she agreed because she felt sorry for me, but I didn't care. Whatever it took to get out of the underground darkness for a while. I normally don't even notice, but today, well, I just had to get out for a bit. We ran into Jack about halfway to the elevator.

"Hey, Jack!", I called out.

"Hey." Nice reply.

"Sam and I were just on our way out to get a bite to eat."

"Huh." Again, nice reply.

"Would you care to join us, sir?" Thanks, Sam, now I don't have to do that.

"I have better things to do, Major." What? Seriously? Did he just say that? How rude.

That's when I knew he wasn't ok. Rude is one thing, but this was different. I mean, Jack can be very rude. He is just clueless most of the time. I'd like to think he has improved somewhat in this lately, though. But it wasn't the words. It was how he said them. He looked right through Sam when he said it. Like she wasn't even there. He only looked in her direction for a second, and then his eyes were anywhere else. He brushed past us in a hurry, bumping into my shoulder a little more roughly than was needed to get by. I turned to look after him, but he was gone faster than beer at a frat party. Hm.

**********************************************************

Despite our little run in with Mr. Optimism, lunch was great. We went to a little diner than serves the best burgers around. When we were finishing up, with full stomachs and entirely too much caffeine on board, Sam finally asked the question I had been dreading since we left the base.

"Is there something wrong with the Colonel?"

Careful, Jackson. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"I don't know. He seemed, well, angry, when we ran into him earlier."

"Well, you know Jack. Probably pissed about a hockey game or something."

"Yeah. Probably."

She let it go, although I could tell she didn't really buy it. Thank goodness I didn't have to actually talk about it. I don't think Sam knows everything that happened recently with her whole 'possession' thing, and I don't really want to be the one to have to tell her about it. We drove back to the base in silence, both of us sleepy from the meal, despite the caffeine, and thinking our own thoughts.

Once back at SGC, I went in search of our resident Colonel. I say resident because I know he has been spending more time up here of late than usual. I found him alone in the gym. He was beating the stuffing out of a hanging bag. I figured I could use the work out, as well, so I crossed to my locker. He didn't seem to notice me. After I got ready, I joined him in the general use area and started to stretch some. He still didn't notice me. So, after a while of trying to get myself noticed…

"Jack."

(punch)

"Yeah, Daniel?"

(punch)

"Whatcha doin'?"

(punch)

"Composing a letter to my dear aunt Nellie, what's it look like?"

(punch)

Ah, sarcasm. Got to love it. Go ahead and hide, Jack…whatever.

"Jack."

(punch)

"What?"

(punch)

"Why did you say that?"

(punch)

"Say what?"

(punch)

"That you had better things to do than go to lunch with Sam and I."

(punch)

"Because I did."

(punch)

"It was rude."

(punch)

"Sorry if I hurt your feelings, Daniel."

(punch)

"It's not my feelings I'm worried about."

(punching stops…long pause-maybe I got through to him?)

"Go away, Daniel."

"No."

"Fine. Stay. Whatever."

(punching resumes)

I give it a minute.

"Jack."

(punch)

"WHAT?"

"Why did you say it? What did you have to do? Huh?"

(punch)

"Would you just shut up so I can get some peace?"

(punch)

"If you think that would help."

(punch, punch, punch)

"What's goin' on, Jack?"

(punch)

"Leave it alone, Daniel."

(punch)

"No."

(punch, punch, elbow, knee)

"Daniel, I'm warning you."

(punch)

"It's affecting the team. Do you really think today was the first time I noticed?"

(elbow, elbow, knee, punch)

"Daniel…."

(punch, punch, elbow, knee, knee, punch, punch)

"Jack, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on with you and Sam."

He stops dead when I say that. Only for a second, but it's there. Complete and utter lack of motion. Like something had to reset inside his head. After the pause, he resumes his punching, this time from the opposite stance. I hear him mutter something under his breath. Something I know I'm not supposed to hear, but I understand every word. And it chills me to my bones.

"Carter's dead, Daniel."

Holy.

Shit.

So, that's what it is. She died. She left you. You realized how much she means to you and it scared the every loving shit out of you, so you closed her off. Sealed her out. Took what you had of her and buried it so deep down you don't even know it's there. And no way, no how are you going to let her back in. No way, no how are you going to let something open up what you sealed off. You won't acknowledge anything from her other than strict, cold data and professionalism. You convinced yourself that the Sam Carter you know died with that entity thing. It's easier for you that way. No more vulnerability. No more of what you perceive as weakness. If something hits too close to home, too close for comfort, like a simple invitation to lunch, you come down here and beat on a bag until you feel better or are too exhausted to care. You do this to punish yourself. You still feel responsible. For all of it, I bet. God-damned hero complex Jack O'Neill. Everything is my fault because somehow I should have seen it coming and fixed it Jack O'Neill.

Well, let me tell you something, Jack-o. You can't see the future, and risk is part of the job. I know you know that, but I think you need reminding. You can't protect everyone from everything. I said once it was your first instinct to protect, and I know I'm right, but sometimes it just can't be done. Things happen that are nobody's fault. Things happen that can't be protected against.

He's standing there, hands at his sides, shoulders slumped, looking tired and worn. He's just standing there. Looking at a spot somewhere in front of his feet. Just standing. I don't know how long he's been like that. I guess I must have looked shocked and just been standing there myself, and he noticed. He knows I heard him. He doesn't even try to deny it. He just goes and starts to take off his bag gloves and put them away, sitting on a bench off to the side. We are still the only ones in here just after lunch.

"Jack."

No answer.

"Jack."

Still nothing.

"JACK!"

"WHAT?!?" His head snaps up, and he finally looks at me as the word barks out of his mouth. The cold fury in his eyes would be enough to shut me up most days, but this is too important.

"You need to fix this. You can't live like this."

"Watch me."

And with that, he gets up and leaves. Just leaves. I don't even know what to do or say. I don't think there is anything I can do or say to make this better. I think this particular demon of Jack's is his alone. I want to try to talk to him, tell him how stupid he's being, and how much more it will hurt him (and me and Sam and everyone else around him) for him to do this than if he just dealt with it. But I know he won't let me. I know he won't let me in anymore than he would admit to himself what is going on. And even if he did, it wouldn't accomplish anything. He likes to hurt too much. To play the martyr. He thinks it is normal to be in pain. Especially when he is like this. When he thinks that to allow himself just a little bit of happiness is somehow wrong. That he doesn't deserve it. That he needs to be punished. And, to be fair, I'm not sure how to advise him to deal with this. Things with Jack and Sam are, well, complicated, to say the least. I do know, though, that what he is doing is not healthy. I have seen him bottle things up before, and it will come out eventually. And it won't be pretty when it does.

Jack, what are you doing? Maybe this is the easiest way for you to deal with this, and maybe with time it will be ok. Maybe it is even for the best, but somehow I doubt it.

Maybe…

But as for me…

I don't know if you will be ok.


End file.
